Losing It
by cyrilandshirley
Summary: A Ste POV, after the violence starts again.


**Losing It**

I come into the yard through the open gate. That yard, of the club, where I've hung out with him, talked, and we've eyed each other up, danced around each other, not literally, but you know what I mean, one long negotiation. There's a few crates need moving, like someone's left them there on the steps for me, so I stack them up. I bet he did that, left them for me to clear up.

And it's like just because I'm thinking about him, he appears, and I look up. He comes running down the stairs, just like he usually does, all long legs and narrow hips and broad shoulders and dressed in black trousers, grey shirt. He looks good, and I feel that same old response, that crunch inside me that I still get whenever he turns up, like he calls something up in me, like I can't help responding to him, and I'm proud that I'm connected to him. I just want people to see it, that connection, but I know it's really hard for him.

He's just doing ordinary stuff, like always. Getting ready to sling out the rubbish, bringing it down to throw into the dumpsters. But he sees me.

"So you're back then," he says. He sounds distracted.

"Just had to drop this kids off at nursery," I say.

And I move over to him. "Have you thought any more?" I ask him. "About me and you?" And I look up at him, into his face. I can hear what my own voice sounds like. A bit soft, like I'm really longing for something. And I know what I want – this. Him and me. I dunno, it's like I could stand here forever, just looking up into his face. He's a couple of inches taller than me, and it just feels totally … right. I look up at him, and he looks down at me, and we connect, and it just feels great. There's just this little space between us, and this buzz bounces backwards and forwards between my body, and his. Sometimes to me it's like there's no one else in the world but him and me, when I see him, sometimes I can't see anyone else, even though I know they're always there, in the background. My kids, and Amy. Rae, maybe, if she still wants to be mates. They're the only other people I've ever cared about, and who care about me. Not much is it? But it means a lot to me. Cos no one ever cared much before.

So I've come up with this idea. That we should go away. He can't be with me here, it makes him too mad. And I want to be with him. I can't get over him – I've tried. And I don't think he can get over me either. So I said we should go away together. Somewhere new, start again, forget all that other stuff. I don't know where. I'm thinking maybe Brighton, cos I heard it's totally normal there, for two guys to be together, and he wouldn't mind as much. I'm thinking he could get a club, and run it, cos the nightlife's good there, and I could help him. It would be … it would be amazing. We would work together, and we'd make a mint, cos he's so good at it, and we'd get a great flat, and after work, in the early hours, we'd go back there, and I'd grab the front of his shirt and take him off to bed, and if he's tired he can lose it all in me, and I'd take his mind off everything, and we wouldn't get to sleep til it was nearly morning. And when we didn't have anything else on, like on a Sunday or something, we could lie in together, like we never have a chance to now, and he would run his hand down my spine and rest it in the small of my back, and I'd smile at him. And then I'd make him breakfast, eggs and bacon, and then we could just go down to the beach and look at the sea. I dunno, I'd get him to buy us ice creams to see off the hangovers, and he'd look at me like I was mad, but he'd still do it, and he'd get ice cream on his tache, and I'd have to wipe it off with my thumb, and he'd let me. I don't know how I know what Brighton would be like, I've never been there, I've never really been anywhere, me, there were no holidays when I was a kid except a day in Blackpool, but it's funny how I can see it all in my head, totally clearly, him walking along the front at Brighton with his hands in his pockets, owning the place, and me beside him, making him smile.

I know it'll hurt, leaving the kids, but they can come and stay. That's what he had to do, when he came here, and if he can do it, I can do it. This is the only thing I have ever had, just for myself. Someone really amazing, someone everyone knows about, loving me. Because I really think he does, even if he's never said it. I don't know. I just think we should be together, like he's a part of me that I've been missing, and maybe he feels the same about me. It feels like that, anyway, when he looks down into my face, like he's looking now.

He seems pretty serious.

"OK, look Stephen …" he starts. And he hesitates.

I scan his face, as he looks away and then back to me. My heart kind of closes down a bit. He's going to turn me down, I can feel it. He is never gonna be able to do this for me, never. I thought maybe it meant enough, that I meant enough, everything we've been through these last few months, but maybe he really never can. Maybe I've been a complete idiot.

I become really aware that people can see us, standing here, so close, looking into each other's faces. There's some guy over there in the smoothie bar, just serving. I don't know him, but he's there. And anybody could come past, any of those other people who want a piece of him, or me, Mitzeee, or Warren, or Amy, or Rae. But I'm still looking at him. Just him.

But then something happens. Something that seems so natural, I don't even notice it's happening at first. But he sort of sighs, and raises his hand, and he puts it against my face, and he strokes my cheek slowly with his thumb, follows it with his eyes.

I stand, stock still. I can't move. He is touching my face. And people can see. No one that matters, but he doesn't even seem to care. My heart thumps, slow and definite. I can feel my lips open, as I let him do it, and I feel that stroking, clear as day, soft on my skin.

"I was thinking …" he says, "maybe there's no need to go away."

I frown. "But … I thought … fresh start and all …" I am feeling so confused right now. He looks almost amused.

He's looking at me like he sometimes does when we're on our own together. Like he loves me and he's almost daring me to believe it.

"I'd never let you leave your kids, Stephen," he says.

So that's it. He wants me to be a proper Dad to my kids. He is going to send me away, to do that, like he did before. But both his hands drop now, to my hips, and they pull me slowly but definitely a little bit closer. And there are … there are people watching. I think so, anyway, I can't see them.

"I want to be with you," I say, looking just at him. I have a feeling I might be going to cry.

He looks around again, like he's looking for something, not the people, but the right words, and then back at me.

"Yeah," he says. "I know."

He pulls me even closer, and I feel like I'm holding my breath, cos I don't really understand what's happening, but at the same time, it makes perfect sense. And I feel my arms go up around his neck, the way he sometimes lets me when we're on our own, but he's always thrown me off before if there was any chance of anyone else being around. We are clasped together, and something starts to happen in my head, and my heart. I don't think he's gonna throw me off this time.

He doesn't. He sort of smiles.

"Are we gonna be together, then?" I ask him, still not totally sure, but more sure than I've ever been before.

He laughs a bit, and furrows his brow. He's teasing me. "What did you think I meant?" he says.

And he bends his head, and hesitates for less than a second, and then he kisses me. Right there. In plain sight. And all I can feel is his mouth. It's not quick, and he doesn't pull away.

He is kissing me. And holding me, his arms around my waist. And suddenly, I am totally … happy. The happiest I've ever been in my whole life, except maybe when Lucas was born, and I was so proud, knowing I'd done that, something really good, for once in my life. It rushes up from the soles of my feet to the top of my head this feeling, with the pressure of his mouth on my mouth, the prickle of his moustache, the pressure of his body against me, because I love him, and he loves me, I know it, and we're gonna be together, right here, and I don't know what's changed, but he's ready to be with me now. And it is bloody perfect. Every piece in its right place. It's like suddenly growing up, and being the person you wanna be, with the life you wanna have. He makes me feel more like a man than I ever have. It is abso-fucking-lutely perfect, and my whole body is practically dancing, and I wanna laugh.

So why can I hear someone crying?

_Daddy …_

My body suddenly feels really heavy, which is weird, because it felt like it was taking off before. I feel like the yard is sliding away, and I don't want it to, I want to grab hold of it and hang onto it forever. But it's still fading. And then it's dark, but it's not because my eyes are closed. And I'm wrapped in something, but I don't think it's Brendan. And my heart's beating fast, but it's not against his. I blink, heavy, and try to focus in the dark. Roll onto my back. Listen.

_Daddy …_

It's Lucas. He needs me. I start to lever myself up, not really knowing where I am. It's an instinct, to go to him when he calls out. But someone's beaten me to it. I hear Amy opening her door, going into the kids' room.

_Mummy's here sweetheart …_

She sounds sleepy. But she'll deal with it.

I sink down again and lie there on my back in the dark, and look at the ceiling, stranded between two worlds. What is wrong with my face? My face feels part numb, part sore. I put my hands up to it. Fuck, it hurts. My cheekbone around my right eye, where he stroked me, throbs. And my mouth, where he kissed me, tastes of dried blood, sour. But then, there was no stroking, and there was no kissing, was there? I start to lose my grip on it, what seemed like the reality of it. I don't want to let it go. I would hang on to it, stay in that world forever if I could. Knowing it's sliding away, I have this feeling of losing something that is so hard it's like someone's opened me up with a knife and taken my heart.

It wasn't real.

I've been fucking dreaming. But I'm awake now. Wide awake.

He didn't lift his hand, and stroke my face. And he didn't kiss me. Cheryl turned up, right on time, and he turned to her and gave her the hug I wanted. And then this Pete guy turned up, the one I met at the school, and he was all on about how much they'd shared. So I went out of my way to let him know, I'm with Brendan now. I couldn't say it, but I let him know, and I knew he knew. And Brendan tried to send me away, so they could talk, but I just kept on hanging around, pushing, trying to find out what was between them. And then I was stupid, and jealous, cos that's what I am, stupid, and I followed him into the bathroom, and I know I should have stopped, but he was driving me crazy, because he never tells me anything, so I kept pushing. And he turned round and punched me in the face.

He punched me in the face. And then again. And let me drop to the floor, like rubbish.

For a moment, everything went black. I tried to concentrate on staying alive, on figuring out if all of me was still working. There was blood in my mouth. It shocked me, the blood, but I was too angry to be hurt. Suddenly, I hated him. I hated him way too much to let him hurt me right then. Last chance, I told him. That'd been his last chance. We could've wiped the slate clean, but he wrecked that, crapped all over it. It was like a bullet ripping through me, realising that he'd hit me again. A bullet that went right into my chest and got stuck there, somewhere right inside, for maximum damage. I got up off that floor. I think it was adrenalin, I was pumped, there was no way I was staying down on that floor. No way. I thanked him, for stopping me making the most stupid mistake of my life. Even I'm not that thick. Even me. I told him to enjoy his stupid fucking secret life, and I walked out.

I don't suppose he was bothered. I wish I had the power to rip him apart the way he has the power to hurt me, but I don't know what he feels, cos he never shows me. It didn't hurt me then, anyway – I was numb with anger, and hating him. But it does now. It fucking burns and stings and aches, and makes tears come into my eyes.

I've got this all wrong, and I don't even know how. I must have misread every signal. I feel totally lost, like I don't even know which way I'm facing.

I thought he loved me. I really did. Macca said he did. But he also said I should get out while I could. I should've listened. I've been such an idiot.

I thought he was changing. I knew there was still darkness in there. I saw it, the threats, the violence. But it started to feel different. He hadn't hit me for months and months, since before the fire, before Macca. I know he hit that Trevor, but when I got it all wrong, and stormed off, he ran after me. And he grabbed me, yeah, but he let me go when I fought back. And I thought I heard him calling my name, after me.

And I know he ran out on me, but he did come out with me to that bar, listened, touched my hand. I knew he was hating it, but he came, he did try. And when he found out I was in trouble with Warren, he was angry and he pushed me against a table, and I really thought he'd hit me then, but he didn't. He talked about something he'd done for me, something I didn't really understand, and I still don't. But he looked out for me, took care of me, texting me that information about Kyle, like he was watching over me or something. And even though he put me down, called me a boy, rejected me, when I came back, he still said he wouldn't hurt me. And he stroked my hair, and dared me to walk away, and kissed me, and we went to bed, and I felt so close to him, as he pressed inside, I really started to think we could be together. And even though I know the next day he pushed me away, said he'd been using me all along, when he kissed me goodbye, it felt like he loved me, like he really couldn't help himself. And even when he shook off my hand when I touched him in the club, and he said he'd break my arm, I didn't believe him. I went into the office after him, because I knew he wanted me, just the same as I wanted him, and he couldn't stay away no matter how hard he tried, and we had sex in that office, and it was the best of my life because I really really felt he loved me, and I don't think in that moment he had the power to leave me or hurt me any more.

Even afterwards, after we were found out, when he pushed me away, when I talked about coming out after I Iost Rae and the baby, and he said it wasn't his problem, I still saw the way he looked at me, and I knew it couldn't be over. I went to him, and I lost it a bit, I think. Maybe we were both starting to lose it. Maybe we had pushed each other as far as we could go. But I came up with this idea, that we could be together somewhere else. Leave, together.

He looked shocked. But he didn't say no. He asked if I was serious. I said I was. And he stalled. But he said he'd think about it.

Brighton. What was going on in my head? How could I have been so fucking retarded? Me and Brendan, partners, in Brighton, the club, and the flat, and what we would do in that flat, sharing a bed, and a life, and everything, the sea, and the ice creams. It was never gonna happen, was it? None of that was ever real. But it seemed like it could be, totally. I let myself believe in it, and maybe so did he, for about a second. But it disappeared, dissolved, faded away, all of it, the moment he hit me and dumped me on the floor of some shitty club bathroom, with nothing but the edge of the basins to clutch at, to haul myself back up.

I can't be with him now. It's finished. God knows I don't think much of myself sometimes. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'll regret them for the rest of my life. But even I don't hate myself that much. I don't think so, anyway. I think I deserve better than that. Maybe we both do. I had it bad, like an illness, but it's over, and I have to focus on sorting myself out, getting myself well again. But it hurts, to have messed this up so badly.

I've had this all the wrong way round. I shouldn't have thought about his voice, and the way he touched me, and the way he protected me, the feeling that he would do anything for me, and his smile, and his body making my body feel like I was worth a million pounds, like I had hit the fucking jackpot, and his kiss, and knowing he cared about me, loved me, and couldn't stay away from me. I was telling myself the wrong story there, looking for clues, trying to look for the ending I wanted. I should have remembered. I should have remembered the grabbing, and shoving, and rejection, the teasing, the put downs, manipulating me so I made a right fool of myself, and telling me he was using me, that he wasn't queer, that none of this was his problem. That was the real story. I have been sleepwalking, like Leah does sometimes. I never saw what was in front of me the whole time. I have been completely blind.

And yet … I just can't shake this feeling in my heart that there was something there. That he did love me, in his way. That if this Pete hadn't turned up, whatever that's all about, if I hadn't given him that ultimatum, backed him into a corner with my stupid idea … we could have been together in the end. Maybe not now, but one day, when he was finally ready. Because it was great, him and me. He made me feel like I was worth something. Special. And I never expected it, but he is everything I want. He is clever, and funny, and loyal, and generous. He is more attractive than anyone I've ever know. His body drives mine wild with wanting him, and then makes me feel like I'll never want anyone else again. I love him. Loved. I loved him.

Maybe the real fucking tragedy here is that it _was_ real. That we had our moment, our one big chance to be something really special, but somehow, without even knowing what we were doing, we blew it, threw it away like trash, and we won't ever get it back again. And that hurts way more than any cut or bruise ever could.

I guess I must still love him, no matter how stupid that makes me, from the way it hurts right now. Only loving someone, and knowing it's over, hurt this fucking much. But I have to open my eyes and see what's really going on now. He will always hurt me, and I can't let it happen, because I don't know what I'll turn into if I do. It scares me.

I guess I have to go back to the life I had before. The one before I met him, and I suddenly felt more alive than I ever had, like someone with a future. Tomorrow, I'll get up, and I'll make the kids breakfast, and I'll get dressed, and I'll drop them at nursery, and I'll carry on. With Amy, yeah, but on my own. It's not much. But it's mine. Maybe one day I'll find someone else, but I can't think about that right now. And I have to forget about all the rest. Being mates with him, and how that made me feel, like I was important, like I mattered. Kissing him, feeling his tongue run round my mouth, hungry for me. Letting him push me onto his bed. Letting him touch me, fuck me, bringing me to places I'd never been. Holding me, after. And thinking about love. And a relationship. Sharing things, talking. A life together. A happy ending. And Brighton, fucking Brighton, seafront, and ice creams, and all.

Letting go of it is hard. My hands go up to my face and I wipe it with my fingers. It's wet, as well as sore. My chest contracts.

I wanted so badly for it to be real.

But the truth is, I have been dreaming.


End file.
